


Routine

by drvology



Category: Batman (Unspecified canon), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's almost nothing unusual about the day, except how everything is suddenly, subtly, different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

**Author's Note:**

> B:TAS is my favorite Batverse incarnation; it's become my default setting when imagining the characters &c. That established, I think the fic I write can be aptly labeled 'canon & time nonspecific.'  
> → Written in an hour for 60_minute_fics challenge group @ LJ || 031607 Prompt #2 _Holding Out & Giving In -- 80's song lyrics. As vague or as literal as you want it to be._

When Dick walks into his study one day after school trailing his half-off blazer and dragging backpack, one hand overfilled with potato chips and the other stuffing a triple-layer pb&j with a precarious blob of concord grape about to escape in his mouth, it's nothing unusual.

Bruce barely looks up from his spread of paperwork, is surrounded by files and tech drawings and budget proposals for the latest greatest his R&D team has finalized enough to kick his way to consider okaying into production.

There's nothing unusual in Dick's animated movements and noises and sound effects as he throws himself into the huge sofa that ells away from Bruce's desk, the happy munching and garbled words and spontaneous ruminations on his day, the work he has to finish before Robin that night, the garden outside the huge bank of windows coming into the pale green life of spring.

Bruce hums and nods where appropriate, puts checkmarks here and there with his thick red wax pencil, things he agrees with, things he wants to see further considered, things he wants to remember to tell them to axe from this and save for use somewhere else.

Nothing at all unusual in Dick's bright chirps to get Bruce's attention, his even brighter smile and sparkling eyes that he's standing next to the desk and wasn't even heard, red polo shirt now unbuttoned and pants rumpled, his hair an every-which-way mess.

Bruce blinks and smiles and starts to ask--maybe apologize--missed what Dick has said.

"Gonna go do homework. Kitchen. Al's made brownies." Dick's grin deepens. "See you later? The Cave?"

He mumbles yes, of course, and furrows his brow at the cost-cutting measure assembly of parts in the China supply factory, tries to decide which offset is better - the financial or the domestic support.

Dick's fingers cup his jaw, stretch up to tingle over his cheek. Dick kisses him, fleeting and sweet on the temple.

"Good."

Bruce's head snaps up and he stares--almost gapes--watches Dick's unconcerned retreat, everything shed from the schoolday and some potato chip crumbs on the couch left behind.

* * *

Dinner a few hours later is per usual. Bruce's skin still burns where Dick's lips left their caress and there is no sign of the kiss at all in Dick.

Alfred serves them a roast with potatoes and carrots, gravy on the side and peas. There are rolls and normally these are Bruce's favorite, but he tastes nothing.

There is conversation he's barely aware of, mundane retreads of their days and preparations for tonight, and he flubs syllables and tries to form words without knowing quite what he says.

* * *

It's almost dawn, feels perfect in this cusp of winter, air more crisp than cold when he remembers he hasn't thought of the kiss at all since a last look at Robin before he'd revved the Batmobile and concentrated on a relatively normal Tuesday night of Gotham crime.

Bruce steps away from the glass door he's cavalierly left open that leads from his bedroom to the terrace and paths, shirtless and damp from his shower, gray silk pants and a towel slung around his neck.

It's not surprising that Dick is dozing on his bed, slip of dark goldenrod paper clutched in one hand crumpled and blunted at the corners, lithe body curled and secure because it's always been safe, here.

Bruce tugs the paper loose and smiles as he reads--something to sign for tomorrow, that he's okay with Dick mixing certain chemicals in upcoming labs, and to please also be aware they'll be exposed to open flame--walks it over to his desk in the corner of the room and signs it in a flourish of effortless flow black ink.

It's left in his day planner because he doesn't trust Dick to remember in the haze of sleep that he signed it, or the haze of sleep in a few hours to take it along. He'll give it to Dick over breakfast.

Bruce stands at the foot of the bed then sinks down slowly, wraps his hand around Dick's shoulder, affectionate smile and heart crimp at the tight coil of teenage limbs somewhere mid-mattress, no regard to get under the throw blankets or rest on the pile of pillows.

"Need you to sign for me chem an' stuff we ready for bed now?" Dick's lashes flutter but his eyes don't open. "Can I have a cheese omelet m' maybe sleep longer let Al drive me to school with you going to work?"

He murmurs yes, of course, reminds them both of the permission slip in his book and certainly if he eats his fruit as well, that he sees no reason they can't leave a bit later tomorrow morning.

Dick's fingers close around his wrist, don't quite circle, pull at him lazily. Dick snuffles and shifts and they end up spooned, still the middle of the bed, Dick's back all along Bruce's front.

"Mmmmmmnite-B'ce."

Bruce huffs--sighs--wonders when suddenly everything changed and there's nothing sudden about this at all, gets the end of his comforter over them, and his breathing evens and slows to match Dick's as they fall asleep.

* * *

The drive a few hours later is the same as always when Dick rides in with him. Bruce's body is satisfied and relaxed where Dick's heat had left its comforting touch and there's no sign of fatigue at all in Dick.

Alfred watches them in the rearview mirror, sees how close they sit, comments only with an inscrutable smile. They share the split-apart paper, thighs pressed together, and Bruce as no idea of what any of the print reads.

They kiss just before Dick gets out of the car, quick and light and a flash of promise in Dick's confident and easy grin and blue blue eyes, like this has always been their normal routine, and he watches as they wait for Dick to disappear inside, knows nothing for that day but the want to see Dick once more, like usual, tonight.


End file.
